Minute Man
by tamsyyn
Summary: "I call 'em like I see 'em, Lahote." She glanced down. "Soft, limp, and useless."


**Minute Man**

"I call 'em like I see 'em, Lahote." She glanced down. "Soft, limp, and useless."

x.x.x

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Motherfucking—"

Bella winced as Paul's foot kicked the nightstand, and his swearing abruptly switched to another focus.

"Ow, dammit! Fucking hell!" He hopped on one foot several times, clutching his toes, still as butt-naked as the day he was born.

Post-orgasm like this, the hopping caused certain things to jiggle about in an almost mesmerizing way. Bella had never really much seen the fascination guys had with watching boobs bounce up and down, but if it was anything like her reaction to watching his cock flap and shake in his own special little dance, maybe she understood now.

"Fuck!" Paul finally concluded dramatically, flopping back onto the bed beside her, forearm thrown over his eyes as he lay limp and defeated at her side.

"Drama Queen," she accused with a bemused smile.

His arm lowered several inches so that one eye could squint open to glare at her. "Don't. Even," he practically growled, before hiding from her once more.

With a sigh, she crawled over to him, ready to help restore a badly damaged male ego. Funny how the biggest ones were the most fragile. "It's okay, baby," she assured him, one hand stroking up and down his bare chest as the fingers of the other twined with the hand covering his eyes, encouraging him gently until he was revealed to her once more. She pressed her lips gently to the line of his jaw. "It's okay," she continued to coo.

"Okay?" he retorted with a snort. "That wasn't even close to okay. That was abysmal. Sad, pathetic, wretched, awful, amateurish —"

"Alright, alright." Bella cut him off before his own private pity party could really get on a roll. "You've got a thesaurus up there, I get it."

Slowly, with malicious calculation, his eyes narrowed at her, dark and suspicious. "You think this is funny, don't you?" he demanded.

"Well…" _It was._ "It is!"

"Oh, just great," he sneered at her for a moment before he was up off the bed again, searching frantically for his boxers. "I'm so glad that you find it so amusing that the ultimate expression of my love turned into…into…" He flailed about helplessly with one hand, face flushed with embarrassment.

Okay, the fact that he couldn't even say it was even funnier. "A sputtering mess?" she suggested helpfully. "Premat—"

"Do not finish that!" he hissed, index finger pointed at her angrily. Maybe provoking him right then wasn't the best idea.

Her expression turned contrite. "I'm sorry." She got up and rested her hand on his shoulder, rubbing soothingly while he was still searching frantically for his clothes.

"You're sorry?" he repeated in disbelief. "You're not the one who decided to party alone tonight…"

"You could always make it up to me," she hinted, slipping her arms around his waist from behind and nibbling at the back of his neck. She pressed up against him, savoring the feel of hot, smooth skin against her curves, strong muscles tensing up with raw power.

"You think it just works like that?" he snapped, pulling away from her. "I can't just turn it off and on, Bella!"

Eyebrows raised, she glanced down at where he still hung, very limp and spent. "Well, we've figured out how to turn it off, at least." She just couldn't help herself. _Really_.

"Yeah, thanks so much," he huffed and finally, with an exclamation of triumph, recovered his jeans.

Bella gulped. The jeans meant that she had limited time left before naked Paul vanished from her sight. It was time to do something drastic. And – surprise, surprise – sympathy wasn't working. It seemed the only way out of this was the way they'd gotten into it in the first place.

"Well, at least now I know what I missing," she mumbled just loudly enough for him to hear, as she pretended to look for her blouse. "Nothing."

"Yeah, because you certainly had nothing to do with it," he muttered back.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, suddenly feeling a bit defensive herself.

"Oh, _Paul_!" he mocked, fluttering his eyelashes. "You're even _bigger_ than I imagine when I touch myself at night!"

"I did not say that!" she screeched back, face flushing with embarrassment. Because, even though he was putting words in her mouth, it was true. And, while lust had been playing funny tricks with her memory at the time, she was pretty sure the words 'it's so big!' had, in fact, escaped her lips. With all his porn-conditioning, no wonder he'd popped under the pressure, so to speak.

"I dream about you every night," he went on, making kissy faces at her.

She felt her hands clench into fists. Why had she thought that it was a good idea to tell Paul anything remotely resembling the truth again? Oh, right. Because she was insane. And horny. "Because heaven forbid you should ever, say, take matters into your own hand," she retorted.

He opened his mouth in faux shock. "Ohhh! So you've thought of me jacking off? Did it give you something to get off on?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. I never even spared you a second thought."

"Oh, Swan," he sighed, an evil little smile curling his lips. "Now I know you're lying…"

She smiled at him sweetly and took a step closer. "I might have thought of you…" she began with false seductiveness, "…if James Deen hadn't been able to keep it up. But he could, so I didn't need to think of you when I touched myself. See how that works?" Her expression was downright evil.

"Y-Y-Y—!" he sputtered indignantly for a few seconds, face turning bright red with barely suppressed rage and embarrassment. "You fucking bitch!" He grabbed hold of her roughly, and she was pleased to note that his jeans fell to the floor, forgotten.

Step one complete.

She yawned. "I call 'em like I see 'em, Lahote." She glanced down. "Soft, limp, and useless." Truth be told, he wasn't any of those things so much anymore. Fighting with her had had its usual effect, and Lahote Jr. was just starting to perk its head up to see what all the excitement was about. Ah, yes, step two was coming along very nicely.

Of course, he was too livid to even notice. Silly boy. Silly, passionate, intense, gorgeous boy.

"I hate you," he practically growled, and it had to be the sexiest thing she'd ever heard.

"I hate you more," she shot back with a smile.

The growl transformed into a frustrated roar, and she let out a little yelp as he yanked her to him. And then his lips were on hers, bruising in their intensity, and her hands were all over him, mussing his hair, digging her nails into his back, clutching him closer, tighter.

"Fuck!" Paul's exclamation this time was one of frustration, and he tripped as one of her legs tangled around his.

Of course, he hadn't noticed that she'd been inching them back towards the bed all along. The fall wasn't far and was softened as their bodies ended up tangled together on his mattress.

With her last bit of conscious effort, she managed to get her legs around his hips, pull him in and then she was lost. Her little orchestrated fight had had exactly the effect she'd wanted on him and, with all the passion of a man desperate to prove himself, he thrust deep inside her, long, hard, and impossibly wonderful.

A cry of pleasure was ripped from her throat. And, then, to recover her poise, she exclaimed, "Looks like I've figured out how to turn it on, too."

He gasped down at her in disbelief, realizing how she'd played him, and his eyes got darker, more vivid. "God, I love you," he practically whimpered, and then he was thrusting inside her, so strong and sure and…

Oh, god. He was impossibly deep. Like the two of them were made to fit each other and now, after far too long waiting, they'd finally both found their home. Oh, if she'd known they would be like this all those months ago when he imprinted, she never could have run away from him, never could have denied how absolutely right this really was.

"Paul," she whispered against him. His cock was rubbing up against something tender and incredible deep inside her, and she felt her entire body clench in anticipation.

His bit his lip, and she watched him fight with every last ounce of his strength to give her the time she needed. His hand was shaking, fumbling against her clit, desperate to bring her pleasure.

In the end, just the fact that it was him was more than enough. Although she didn't object to any of the side sensations in the slightest. She came with a gasp, felt her body arch upwards completely out of control, felt every muscle tremble and tense and release.

And then he was with her, his mouth against her throat muffling his cries of pleasure as he spent himself inside her body this time, rather than all over himself. If the way he was shuddering against her and clinging to her was any indication, he preferred cuming inside her quite a lot.

"See?" She couldn't help but tease him just a little bit. "I knew you could do it!" She inflected the words so that he knew, under no uncertain terms, that she was cheering him on like she would someone riding the short bus.

He sighed. "I promise it'll be better next time. Or whenever the edge finally wears off." He brushed apologetic kisses all over her face.

She blinked up at him in stunned disbelief. "It gets better?"

Paul laughed and then frowned when he realized she was serious. "Bella…" he began hesitantly, thinking she had to be kidding him, "I only lasted five minutes. You only came once."

"That's bad?" Her mind was currently freaking the hell out. If that was bad, then what must good feel like? Bella was still a bit stunned over the concept that it got better. "How…?" she began dazedly.

He leaned in to kiss her, expression softening as his focus returned to her. "Don't worry. I'll show you."

She murmured happily against his lips, holding his naked body close.

"But," he admitted sheepishly, "until I can get myself under better control around you, you might have to put up with more of that for a while."

Bella felt her entire body warming at just the thought. "I can live with that," she agreed.


End file.
